


Make Me Feel

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Consensual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Mortinez, POV Jo, Slow Burn, Smut, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7581886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First kisses lead to first.... other things.</p><p>A sort-of prequel to Toast, but can be read alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“It’s been a very long time for me,” Henry said into the darkness of her hallway.

 

Outside, the snow was barrelling down on to the streets of New York, and sticking, the paving near-obscured by the increasing curtain of soft white weather.

 

The light, a skewed combination of streetlamp glow and neighbours’ outdoor security lights, eeked in through her small hallway window, picking out the details of her partner. A stray curl of his hair. The edge of his scarf – gunmetal grey today, the material looked butter soft. The edge of his jaw, lightly stubbled.

 

He was a foreign object here, here, where before only Sean had been. But somehow, despite all her walls and her monk-like dedication to keeping them fortified, the quirky, kind, well-dressed Medical Examiner, with his gifts of hot chocolate and his ridiculous knowledge of ancient artefacts and killing methods, and his gentle smile, had slowly broken them down.

 

It was the hot chocolate that had done it. The final straw in a slowly sagging camel’s back. The selflessness behind that simple kindness, the offer to keep her company with no thought other than to offer comfort, had slipped out that last brick in her heavily fortified wall. Jo had been building it since Sean’s death and tended it mercilessly. Perhaps all this time, she’d simply been waiting for someone to come and break it down. Someone with kind, dark eyes, warm hands, and a pocket watched tucked into a waistcoat.

 

A straightforward kiss on the cheek goodnight outside the door had lingered, and before she could second-guess herself – didn’t she seem to spend her life doing that these days? – Jo had turned her head, nerves flooding with sensation as her lips touched Henry’s for the first time.

 

They had stood that way for some time, only their mouths touching, exploring, hands in their own pockets, breathing each other in. He was warm and solid and all she could think was that she wanted to be _his,_ just for a moment. Just for tonight.

 

And so she’d slid the key home into her lock, and now the two of them stood alone together, in her unlit hallway. Together, talking very loud despite the lack of words.

 

“I don’t exactly do this often myself,” Jo replied weakly. She glanced at the door, wondering if she’d been too hasty. Was it too late to-

 

Henry unwound her scarf and hung it on her hat stand, then began to unbutton her coat, his ministrations firm but gentle. He glanced back at her every few buttons, giving her, she knew, several chances to recant. To change her mind.

 

_It’s too soon._

_This would be a mistake._

_You should call a cab._

 

But if any of those excuses hovered on her tongue, they didn’t make it through her lips as Henry gently slid her thick, dark winter coat off her shoulders and hung it neatly on stand wooden stand, below her scarf. A few stray snowflakes dropped from the ends of her hair.

 

“That’s better,” he said, very softly, his voice a caress over her senses in the half-light.

 

“Henry-”

 

He smiled slightly. “You are aware, I hope, that we could simply have some tea, discuss a case, and wait until the weather recedes.”

 

Wants and needs warred inside her. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “I just want…” She huffed out a breath, impatient with herself, with her feelings, with every goddamned thing. “I haven’t _felt_ in a very long time, Henry. You make me feel. And that makes me scared.” She laughed dryly at herself. “Kick down the door of a drug den? No problem. Chase a hostage down the street, dodging cars? Sounds fun. But this? This is…”

 

“Outside your comfort zone,” he supplied.

 

She barely saw him move, but suddenly his hand was cupping her cheek, warm. She fought the urge to nuzzle into his palm and lost.

 

“Jo. I can step outside now and wait for a cab.”

 

He would, she knew. He would go outside. She would wish him a quiet goodnight and close the door, trapping him outside her careful little world. He would go home to Abe and she would see him tomorrow and they would talk about severed limbs and maggots like normal colleagues. She would drink her coffee and banter with Hanson and try to forget the press of Henry’s mouth against hers, the timbre of his voice in the darkness, the hammer of her heart when she thought about being close to him.

 

One word from her, and everything would go back to normal. Normal and safe.

 

She lifted her hands and started to unwind his scarf with slow but deliberate movements.

 

“Don’t go. Stay and….” She swallowed, one foot on this new path, the other hovering behind. _Time to shit or get off the pot, Martinez._ “Stay and make me feel.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get more intense.

For a long moment he said nothing at all, and the butterflies in her stomach gave way to a yawning pit of fear. She’d misread the situation somehow.

 

Had she?

 

His hands moved to cover hers as she slowly untwined the scarf around his neck. “A single word from you, and we’ll stop. Nothing happens, unless you want it to.”

 

Her stomach unravelled with relief. How could she have thought that Henry –  _her_  Henry, one day, maybe – would behave any differently?

 

“I want it to,” she whispered.

 

She finished unwinding his scarf and hung it on the hat stand, then, as he’d done for her, unbuttoned his smart black winter coat. He stood obediently as she slid it off his broad shoulders. She could feel his gaze on her in the muted light of her hallway. She hung his coat, too, and they looked at each other in the darkness. Jo swallowed back a nervous laugh.  _I’ve done nothing more than take his coat and scarf off, but I feel like a teenager about to have her first make-out session._

 

She swallowed. “Upstairs, or…?”

 

Perceptive as usual, he gently took her hand and laced their fingers. “Perhaps we should sit.”

 

Sit. Yes. She could handle that. They could sit and talk and see where it led them.

 

She tugged at his hand – funny how as simple a thing as hand-holding could make her feel so grounded – and led him to her living room, flicking on the hall lamp as she passed. She touched the light switch on the living room wall, too, and a soft glow filled the space, touching on her low grey couch, the screen on her TV, the mouth of the fireplace, stacked neatly with logs.

 

"It's a beautiful room," Henry said quietly.

 

She glanced back at him. He dominated the space, but how could he not? Another man after all this time was always going to have that effect. She swallowed and reminded herself that she was brave and strong, and that she _wanted_  this.

 

"Should I... make up a fire, perhaps?"

 

"Great idea."

 

She stood awkwardly in her living room as he gathered all the necessary items to start a fire with the logs in her hearth. Once the wood had kindled, and he'd tended the burgeoning flame, he set the protective metal grate in place. He stood back, hands in his pockets. The fire began to snap, and the mantlepiece clock ticked the seconds away.

 

Henry turned back to her, his half smile both tender and hopeful, and she thought how much, in that moment, he looked like a little boy who was about to be offered a delicious plate of sweets, but who was too polite to ask when they might arrive.

 

She was about to speak when he stepped infinitesimally closer to her. Jo looked up, searching his dark eyes. She'd never seen him like this - quiet and contemplative. He normally filled silences with some weird science/murder fact, or some historical tidbit that he pulled out to impress anyone in the vicinity.

 

"I... don't know what to do," she blurted helplessly, half wishing there was a dead body in the room. At least she _knew_  how to act around those. Knew the procedure.

 

Damn it, why wasn't there someone to arrest nearby? She was a dab hand at that. Or a car chase. Yeah, that'd be good right now. Why didn't Hanson call, for God's sake?

 

But _this_ dance - she had forgotten all the moves, it seemed. 

 

"Why don't we start with this." Very gently, he framed her face in his hands, the tips of his fingers brushing into the curls of her hair. Her eyes drifted closed as his mouth brushed over hers, so gently she wasn't sure she felt it the first time. He kept the kisses soft, reverent almost, his hands warm on her face. She heard a little mewling sound in the room and realised belatedly that it had come from her own lips.

 

Henry kissed her again, and this time the gentleness was't enough. She parted her lips, just a little, and lifted a hand to slide it under the edge of his smart, ghost-grey waistcoat. His chest was warm through the smooth material of his crisp, white dress shirt. The ends of her fingers skirted the line of his collar, perfectly bisected by a smart, wine red tie, and she wondered, not for the first time, how he would look disheveled. His tie cast aside, waistcoat askew, dress shirt unbuttoned to reveal scattered, dark chest hair.

 

He responded, his own lips parting to deepen the kiss, and, bold, she licked into his mouth, wanting more heat, more of this, more _Henry._

Another groan filled the room, his this time, and one of his hands slid further into her hair, fisting. She sighed as he took the kiss deeper yet, plundering her mouth, not letting up, their tongues tangling in a hot, driven mess of sensation layered over sensation.

 

She must have made another sound of assent, because he suddenly yanked her close, fitting their bodies together. Instinctively Jo widened her stance and he pressed between her legs. A gasp escaped her at the immediate feel of him, hot and heavy, in the place where she wanted him the most.

 

Henry broke the kiss and she opened her eyes. His own were so dark they looked almost black, his expression somehow serious and a little dangerous, unpredictable almost. _This_  Henry was less likely to be gentlemanly, more likely to ruin her right here on the rug, in front of the fire. The thought made her heart race - but with excitement, not fear.

 

He swallowed and she watched a muscle in his cheek tick. "You're absolutely sure this is what you want?"

 

She knew with absolute certainty that he would stop at any point if she asked it.

 

And it was that exact knowledge that made her decision easy.

 

The room had become warm with the fire licking at the stacked logs. The soft glow of the lamps and the flames lit Henry from behind, and she thought for a second how he made a perfect Mr Darcy in waistcoat, dress slacks and pocket watch.

 

Rather than answer him in words, she started to unbutton his waistcoat, the material soft against her fingers. At the last button, the fabric fell open and she held the edges, sliding it off his shoulders. He watched her progress silently, his Adam's apple bobbing as she set the item of clothing on the couch. Ordering her fingers to stop trembling, she started on his tie, releasing the knot, keenly aware of his body heat under his shirt.

 

The thick, silky material of his tie slid through Jo's fingers as she lifted it away from his neck, sending it the way of the waistcoat.  She glanced back at Henry, but his serious, dark edged expression hadn't changed. He was letting her take the lead, she realised. He was exerting control over himself until she either said or did something to let him know it was his turn to be in charge.

 

She slipped the first button on his dress shirt out of its eyelet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading!!
> 
> I've finished watching all the episodes of Forever now. My heart! I'm so sad that it's over.
> 
> If you like my work, I'm inviting Mortinez prompts to my Tumblr: tumblr.com/blog/yespolkadotkitty


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK people. Rating upped to mature.

Henry stood very still as she freed one button at a time. Jo glanced up at his swarthy, handsome face with its serious dark eyes.

“Nothing?” she teased. “If only I’d known that undressing you was all it took for you to stop talking.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Perhaps you’d prefer it if I waxed lyrical about the very Edwardian style of your fireplace, at least that’s what I’ve deduced based upon the tiles, which-”

She laughed. “Okay. I believe that you’re you.” And she continued her progress with his buttons, at last gently tugging the tails of his shirt free from the waist of his trousers. Her heart pounded as he pushed the shirt off his shoulders, her gaze lingering on the bullet wound she’d first seen the day he’d been captured; strung up. The memory brought both a pang of worry for him and a guilty reminder of a brief fantasy she’d indulged in of Henry tied up, vulnerable to her bidding.

His shirt dropped to the floor and she smoothed her  fingers over the puckered wound. “One day you’ll tell me all about this.”

Henry lifted his gaze to meet hers, his dark eyes seemingly bottomless. “I promise you that I will. Everything. Soon.”

His words, and his tone, sounded ominous. It was on the tip of Jo’s tongue to ask for more, but a selfish part of her swallowed the questions. She hadn’t come this far with a man she cared for since Sean, and now that she’d decided, she wasn’t going to stop for anything.

She lifted her free hand and gently smoothed both her hands over Henry’s chest, savouring the feel of his heart beating under the sensitive skin of her palm. He smelled faintly of his signature cologne, and the warm wool of the scarf he’d worn. It was a heady mixture, and Jo pressed her face into the column of his neck, allowing her hands to slide down to his waist. Henry responded in kind, a sort of sigh reverberating through him as he returned the embrace, his hands warm through her blouse.

They stood that way for long minutes, holding each other, breathing each other in. It was somehow one of the most intimate experiences Jo could recall having, but suddenly the moment passed and it wasn’t enough. She felt itchy inside her own skin, every cell in her body clamouring for _more._

Remembering Henry’s promise that nothing would happen unless she willed it, Jo took one of his hands between hers and set it at the collar of her blouse, hoping her meaning was clear. He met her gaze for a hot second, his chocolate brown eyes molten, before he started to undress her. The brush of his knuckles against her skin made her shiver with anticipation. She watched him as he worked, hearing the tell-tale catch of his breath as he revealed her breasts, encased in a mint-lace edged bra – pot luck that she’d chosen half decent underwear this morning.

“Jo.” His voice had gone very soft, very deep.

The last button of her blouse slipped free, and the material slid down her arms like water.

He smoothed his hands up her waist, over her ribs, then cupped her breasts through the bra. His eyes lifted, searching her face. He must have found whatever he sought, because he released the clasp and the lingerie joined the growing pile of fabric on the floor.

He looked down at her naked torso and the raw hunger she saw flicker over his face made her internal muscles tighten.

She _really_ wanted him to be the version of Henry who ruined her on the rug in front of the dancing flames.

Then his hands found her bare flesh, and she stopped being capable of thoughts. Every nerve sang as he reverently stroked her breasts, weighing them in his palms, thumbing the nipples until her head fell back. He took it as an invitation, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her neck, his groomed stubble pleasantly rough against her skin. If he kept going, she’d have beard burn, she mused, and the thought of being marked by him sent a thrill mousing down her spine.

He whispered her name again, voice throaty. He sounded on the edge of control, teetering, and it thrilled her further. Ever since they’d met she’d had him pegged as someone who exerted control over every aspect of his life. The idea that she could make his grip on that control loosen heightened her excitement.

She pressed into his hands as he took her mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss. Stunned, she lifted a hand and slid her fingers into the thick curls of his dark hair as he ravaged her mouth.

It was too much.

It wasn’t _nearly_ enough.

Jo wound her other arm around Henry’s neck, pulling him closer. He instinctively pressed between her legs, and she arched up against him, rubbing that sweet spot against his erection over and over, the pressure building to an almost unbearable intensity. Want and desperate need spiralled inside her.

Suddenly he broke the kiss, his hands moving to her waist, stilling her.

“It’s my intention to... make this good for you.”

His words surprised a laugh out of her. “You’re doing pretty well from where I’m standing.”

His face creased in what looked like a crossover of humour and pain. “If we continue in this vein, I’ll be unable to maintain what control I have left.”

Her heart leapt at the low, dark tone of his voice, at odds with his cultured British accent. “And what if that’s what I want...?” She hardly recognised the breathless cadence of her own voice.

Henry shook his head, dropping to his knees before her, looking up into her face. “Darling. That’s later. For now, I intend to prove that I’m a considerate lover.” And his busy fingers started on the snap of her jeans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry is very thorough.
> 
> Mature rating continues, folks.

Jo’s breath stilled in her throat as Henry gently opened her jeans, unclasping the snap and then slowly – _very_ slowly, pulled down the zipper. She felt his hands on the waistband of the denim, folding it down over her hips, until her underwear, mint lace matching her bra, was exposed.

She pressed her thighs together, so turned on she couldn’t be sure where pleasure stopped and torturous pain began.

“Did I ever tell you that your dedication to thoroughness can be annoying?” she huffed.

“Perhaps once or twice,” he conceded, and she heard the smile in his voice, his words roughened with the same spike of arousal she felt pulsing in her own body. “But not in this, I don’t think.” He pushed her jeans down lower, and she automatically spread her legs a little. The rest of the denim, bunched around her thighs, trapped her, and she was vulnerable to him – his gaze, his touch, whatever he wanted to do to her and with her.

“If you don’t do something soon, I _will_ shoot you,” she groused. “I do have my gu-”

He put his mouth on her through the lace.

Without thinking, Jo reached  out and braced her hands on his shoulders as he kissed her intimately. The pressure of his tongue and the friction of the lace stole her breath from her lungs. Henry worked diligently, exploring her through the thin fabric. Besides the crackle of the fire, the only sounds in the room were her ragged gasps and Henry’s low sounds of contentment as he worked at her. He hit a sweet spot and she pressed into his mouth, any and all inhibitions washed away by the drugging hit of pleasure he gave her over and over. She clenched her hands on his shoulders, dizzied by sensation.

A rush of air touched her skin, and she was about to protest as Henry tugged her underwear down – but only managed a strangled groan as he kissed her without barriers, his mouth hot, movements sure and confident. She came in a rush, his name falling from her lips without conscious thought. Her knees buckled and she was vaguely aware of him supporting her; lowering her gently to the rug before the fire.

She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he removed the rest of her clothing – jeans, underwear, shoes, boots, and finished undressing himself. She lifted her arms as he moved to lie on top of her, the weight of him warm and welcome. He studied her with those bottomless dark eyes, and she wondered, not for the first time, what he thought when he looked at her. All the things she might mean to him.

It was a question for another time.

Jo tightened her arms around his neck. “Henry-”

“That’s fast becoming my favourite sound,” he said softly, his voice low. “My name on your lips.” He punctuated his words by gently rolling his hips against her. The warm length of his erection burned like a brand against her belly.

She closed her eyes and drank in the myriad sensations of his body on hers, the brush of his roughened beard against her neck, and the giddying knowledge that this was _Henry,_ her friend, her colleague – and tonight, her lover. She’d seen him wrist-deep in corpses, she’d seen him frustrated by stacks of paperwork, she’d seen him wistful and angry, she’d even, memorably, seen him take the walk of shame holding a red thong, a prank from the precinct. But now she’d seen him like this, desire for her sketched across his handsome face, his eyes darker than midnight, she’d never forget it.

Jo reached across the floor to snag her jeans and searched in the pockets one handed, finally fishing out a small foil pocket. More to scratch an itch than anything, in the time since Sean’s death she’d had two one-night stands, both with people she knew and cared for. Although it hadn’t happened again in recent memory, she was a cop, and it paid to be prepared in all things.

If she admitted it to herself, she’d carried it around out of hope since her feelings for Henry had begun to get… complicated.

He took it from her, leaning up on his elbows, concentrating on the task of opening the small packet. Jo busied herself snaking a hand between their bodies, wrapping her fingers around him, feeling hot, velvety skin over the steel. She was rewarded with Henry’s sharp hiss of breath, seemingly a sound both of pleasure and of warning. Enjoying the feel of him too much to stop immediately, she continued to stroke him, watching his eyes narrow.

“Jo-”

The sound was so strangled, so far from his usual verbose, articulate self, that she took pity on him. Taking the condom, she removed the rest of the wrapper and slid the thin rubber coating over him slowly. “Now,” she whispered once he was fully sheathed.

He wasted no time in obeying her. Their eyes locked as he slid home. A moan floated up between their bodies and Jo couldn’t tell which of them had made the sound. She lifted her hips slightly, seating him deeper, and wrapped her legs around his, encouraging him.

There was something desperate in his dark eyes as he looked at her. “I want to be gentle.”

He felt so good inside her, solid and real and just unmistakeably _Henry,_ and she clenched her internal muscles, testing them both. “I don’t.”

The soft words broke something in him. He set a punishing rhythm and Jo willingly took everything he had to give, arching her hips to meet his movements. When he eased a hand between them to touch her in the still-sensitive spot from his earlier attention, she cried out, sobbing his name into the warm roughness of his neck.

Her release set off his own, and she felt his body tense and coil as he came with a hoarse whisper of her name.

Afterwards, she expected him to move off her, but he stayed, his firm, warm weight on top of her both comforting and steadying. He dropped kisses over her face, stroked her hair, and all the while she felt his heart beating against hers, constant, reassuring. Her eyes drifted shut. For the first time since Sean had been alive, she felt _content._

“Jo, darling-”

She opened her eyes. If he spoiled it now, she _would_ shoot him. Just in the leg – she wasn’t _that_ cruel.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“It better not be that you’ve had Lucas out tampering with crime scene evidence while you’ve kept me busy here.”

He chuckled. She loved that warm sound. “I _promise_ that it isn’t that.”

Jo yawned hugely. Her body was winding down after the mind-blowing orgasms he’d given her. Feeling vulnerable, dizzy, sated, she nuzzled into him. “Can it wait until morning?”

Something passed over his face, but she was too sleepy to deduce what it was. Nerves? Acceptance? Finally he half-smiled. “Of course.”

She only faintly recalled him leaving her briefly – bathroom, she assumed – but not before wrapping a throw gently over her. When he returned, he carried her to her bedroom, tucked her in, set a glass of water by her bedside. When he made to go, she caught his wrist. In the darkness of her bedroom, she could only make out the strong curve of his shoulder, the set of his mouth.

“Where are you going?”

“You should rest. I’ll… sleep downstairs.”

She tightened her grip. “Stay.”

His hesitation almost felt like a tangible thing in the blanketing darkness of the room. But then he acquiesced, and the bed dipped slightly as he climbed in beside her. After another moment he wrapped an arm around her, tucking her into his body, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Maybe they’d regret this serious lapse in professionalism. Maybe one of them would.

But right now, snuggled into Henry’s warm body, his steady breath in her hair, she couldn’t regret a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading!! I've enjoyed writing this.
> 
> I'm still VERY sad that Forever isn't coming back. I have SO MANY QUESTIONS.


End file.
